


you always make it hard for me to stop

by flonkertons



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-11
Updated: 2013-05-11
Packaged: 2017-12-11 11:53:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/798467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flonkertons/pseuds/flonkertons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis has a national championship to win, the Dallas heat to battle, and a rivalry with Trier to rekindle. Harry Styles is from Trier. He complicates it all. National Forensic League (Speech and Debate) AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you always make it hard for me to stop

**Author's Note:**

> This is mostly a self indulgent fic disguised as a birthday fic for Rachel. She is the only one who understands the references in this fic, I think. I also couldn't have gotten this done without Greta's help at all because she encouraged me the entire way and kept me on track. She's the best. And, finally, a shoutout to Hermione Weasley, for your constant encouragement as well!
> 
> Any inconsistencies in information is all my fault because my tournament guidebook doesn't include everything and I had to assume what happens in some stages.
> 
> MINOR EDIT to fix a formatting error! SORRY!

Dallas is hot. Dallas is really fucking hot, and Louis finds that out once he steps out of the airport into the scorching heat, and he immediately wants to jump back inside the air conditioned safety of Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport. He actually tries to do so until Zayn pulls him back with a sharp tug of his hand and Louis whines.

"It's _hot_ and you know I don't do well in the heat! And look how I'm dressed!" Louis is dressed fine. He has shorts on and a white t-shirt, but apparently it's too much. He shields his eyes with his hands, despite the fact that he already has sunglasses on, and Zayn just rolls his eyes.

"We'll be at the hotel before you know it, you baby, I know you can survive 'til then," he says, tugging on Louis' hand again, while pulling his suitcase with his other hand.

"No, I'll perish, and you'll have to tell the judges that your partner died from the unbearable heat and the organizers will be so worried about a lawsuit that you win out of sympathy."

"I don't want to win out of sympathy. I want to win because we're the best. So you can't die on me," Zayn says, still pulling Louis' hand. Louis is compliant at least, letting himself be dragged to the shuttle bus as he complains about the heat.

"Well, of course that's _preferable_ , but in the event it can't happen because I _evaporate_ from the heat, just play the pity card, no one is cruel enough to vote you down because your partner met a tragic end," Louis is very matter of fact as he explains. Zayn tells him he's an idiot, but it's without malice, and pushes him into the bus, where Louis rejoices loudly.

"Can you hold off on any other complaints for half an hour?" Zayn asks, raising an eyebrow. Louis answers by zipping his lips, throwing away the key, and resting his head on Zayn's shoulder. Zayn rolls his eyes at their coach Paul, who returns it, but kisses the top of Louis' head before the bus starts moving.

 

A huge banner with **WELCOME TO THE LINCOLN FINANCIAL GROUP/NATIONAL FORENSIC LEAGUE SPEECH & DEBATE TOURNAMENT** greets them when they arrive at the Sheraton and the combination of the bus ride and the actual proof that they're at _Nationals_ has calmed Louis down to the point where he's only slightly tittering around the lobby as Paul checks them in. They have the rest of the day free and Louis plans to spend it first in his room and then in the hotel pool. Fuck sightseeing.

Paul hands out the keys -- Zayn and Louis share a room, like always -- and launches into a speech about behaving themselves and he'll be in and out of meetings all day so they need to listen to the chaperones and don't go anywhere without telling someone and team meeting at 8 PM. Louis only listens to approximately 10% of it, already fiddling with his phone and taking pictures of anything and everything.

His selfie shot with Gary, the lone LDer on the team, fails when he cuts off half his face in the picture so he gives up and slumps back to Zayn. "Carry me upstairs, Zayner. I need a bed."

He doesn't carry him but he does give him a piggyback ride to the elevator, the two freshmen debaters on the team tasked with carrying their luggage close behind.

"1203," Louis reads loudly once they're in the elevator. "Press the 12 button!" Zayn grunts a response and presses the button. The team is stuffed into the elevator along with their accompanying luggage, so it's a tight fit, but Louis doesn't mind because he loves his team (most of them; Gary in LD is kinda weird) and he got a free piggyback. They're all buzzing - a bunch of them mention some restaurant they heard was fantastic, Karen who does humor says she really wants to visit the JFK Memorial, Sam and Danny in Public Forum say they have a few parts of their speeches to polish. 

Louis rolls his eyes at Sam and Danny's plans because he is very, very adamant about having fun along with hard work. More on having fun, though. He is of the firm belief that people need to relax before they can get to work. That's why he plans on sleeping for at least four hours and then lounging by the pool for four more hours or until Paul comes and drags him back for the team meeting. For team president, Louis is pretty awful at it. (He's not, really. He's very good at it, and the whole team looks up to him, but he likes to pretend he's much worse at it than he really is.) 

"You're in Dallas! Yeah, yeah, Nationals are important but you have all of tonight to -- oh," he's cut off from his rather fantastic admonishment when the door opens and he sees the bane of his existence in the form of the Trier Academy Speech and Debate team. They've been rival schools way before Louis ever entered high school and joined the team, and no one has any clue why the two are rivals, but it's an understood agreement to keep the rivalry alive. The scowls on Trier's faces match Louis' and Louis tightens his hold on Zayn as his team files out, trying to avoid touching any of Trier. 

Trier's team captain, Brian, nods shortly at Louis, but Louis refuses to return the greeting, instead dropping down from Zayn's back and pulling down on his shirt so that he looks presentable. 

"Hello Brian, I guess we're going to be floor buddies," Louis says shortly, folding his arms across his chest and trying not to glare. 

Brian shrugs in response and ushers his team into the elevator. Louis scoffs and turns away from him, walking towards the rest of his awaiting team, only stopping when he hears a, "Is that Louis?" from somewhere in the Trier group. He looks back to see a boy with curly hair, peeking his head from behind someone to stare at Louis. He has no idea who the boy is, but he's a little offended that he doesn't know who he is.

The elevator door closes and Louis bounds towards Zayn, room key waving in the air. Whatever, he has a bed and a pool waiting for him.

 

Louis is groggy as hell and the sun is shining in his face when he wakes up from his nap. He's a little disoriented too because he wakes up and yells for Zayn, but Zayn is passed out on the other bed, which means he won't be awake for at least two more hours. Which sucks, because now that he's awake, he can't get back to sleep. What kind of partner is Zayn if his sleeping patterns aren't attuned to Louis'? Such disappointment.

He doesn't want to go to the pool alone, but he doesn't have anything else to do, so he decides to grab a few of his teammates and rope them into joining him. After grabbing his towel and sunglasses, he tapes a note on Zayn's forehead that says:

ran off with gary (to the pool), wake up soon!!!  
L x

Gary isn't bad company once he gets away from the debate room, but he's still wishing Zayn was awake or Karen was back from sightseeing or anyone else was available as Gary talks about how excited he is for the tournament. Louis is _also_ really excited but that's not until _tomorrow_ so it doesn't even cross his mind. For Louis, right now he's in Dallas for a fun trip with his friends. He just happens to be staying at a hotel where there happens to be some big competition. No big deal.

"Gary. Let's just soak in the sun, okay? Let's aim for quiet," Louis says, smiling in satisfaction when Gary shuts up. He enjoys a nice three point five seconds of silence before Gary starts talking again and Louis heaves a pained, inward sigh. He opens his eyes and turns to plead with him when he sees the curly haired boy from earlier who didn't know who he was. It's an impulsive decision to shout, "Hey! Curly!" 

Curly stops -- which is _quite_ presumptive of him, actually, who says Louis wasn't yelling for a different curly haired boy -- looks around, touches his hair as subtly as he can, and looks unsure of what to do next.

"Come here," Louis commands, waving a hand at him. Curly looks more sure after that and walks over.

"Hi?" he asks, the question mark built in. Louis decides it's very annoying. It has nothing to do with the fact that he's from Trier.

"You don't know who I am," Louis says, taking his sunglasses off. It's supposed to increase the intimidation factor.

"You're Louis," Curly says, bouncing from one foot to the other. It's very distracting.

"Please stop moving," Louis waves a hand at him to urge him to stop, but while he has stopped, he has also sat in the chair next to Louis and that is a Trier member too close to him. He tries to subtly shift away but Curly only leans forward. He looks expectantly at Louis, as if he's saying, _Well? You called me over._

Louis clears his throat. "Right. Uh, yes, I'm Louis. You seemed to be confused earlier and --" _Everyone knows who I am!_ "I just wanted to make sure. That you knew my name."

"Why?" Curly asks. And leans even closer. Louis glares at him and scoots back because he is not about his personal space getting invaded by some Trier kid who happens to have nice curls.

" _Because_!" Louis starts, stopping when he realizes he has no idea how to say 'everyone knows who I am and I can't believe you don't' without it sounding like -- well, exactly like that. "Because you should know who everyone is!" Weak.

"I know who everyone is," Curly says simply, smiling serenely.

"Then why did you ask if I was Louis back by the elevator?" He is taking this much more seriously than necessary.

"I've just heard a lot about you but never really seen you around longer than two seconds, so I was curious." He is very calm and still smiling (this time, Louis notices his dimples, and he wants to flatten them). It irks Louis. He needs to breathe. He's letting a Trier kid get to him. It's probably his idea in the first place. Or Brian's. It's a psychological tactic, and it's working, especially since he doesn't buy this excuse at all. Louis is convinced that Trier has a dartboard with pictures of his team on it so none of Curly's poor excuses make sense.

"I assume very bad things," Louis says, shrugging.

Curly looks very curious. "Why would you say that?"

Louis is very torn between laughing at him or gaping at him. He wasn't a very _good_ spy, was he? Honestly, he expected much more from Brian. "Because... we're rivals." He chose the latter.

"Oh, right, that. I thought it was just like, nothing serious." Louis' jaw actually drops a little. This fucking kid is making a mockery of a longstanding tradition of hatred between the two schools. What kind of joke.

" _Who are you_?" It comes out in a hushed whisper because Louis is so offended that he can't bear to expend louder volume to this _person_.

"Harry Styles!" comes the cheery answer and Louis flops back against the chair in frustration. Harry Styles is infuriating. Harry Styles doesn't know he's infuriating either, which makes him even more so. And _that_ must be why Brian chose him to harass Louis.

"Okay, _Harry_ ," Louis says, trying to keep his irritation under control. "Rule number one, never joke about the rivalry. It's... a sore subject." It really is, too. No one talks about it unless it's unavoidable.

Harry nods like he's taking notes in his head. When Louis doesn't continue, he breaks the silence with, "Is there more?" It throws Louis off his guard because he doesn't have anything else, but now he feels pressured to say something else. Something wise.

"Rule number two, we don't talk to Trier and Trier doesn't talk to us. See number one, kind of," Louis is pretty proud of that impromptu addition.

"But you're talking to me right now?" Harry actually cocks his head to the right a little.

"I -- I'm _educating_ you right now, it's an exception. As a general rule, we don't talk to each other." He is getting a headache and he hasn't even competed yet. His relaxation time is dwindling down to nothing and he has no idea where the fuck Gary is anymore.

"Oh. Well, I think our teams have already broken that rule, haven't they?"

"What do you mean?" Louis asks, while wondering why he's spending so much time entertaining Harry's comments.

"I mean, like, aren't Perrie and Leigh Anne dating?" It takes a while for Louis to register who Perrie and Leigh Anne are because this can't possibly be true. Perrie is one of Trier's top HIers but Leigh Anne is one of theirs. As in not Trier, as in _fraternizing with the enemy_ , as in _breaking the rules_. 

Louis doesn't remember much after that, but Gary tells him that he stood up, leaving his towel and sunglasses on the chair and a Harry Styles staring in confusion, and headed back to the hotel, where the mass group text: TEAM MEETING NOW COME BACK OR ILL FIND U MYSELF was then sent. 

And then he flopped facedown onto his bed.

 

To their credit, almost the entire team shows up for the meeting. Louis is despondent but puts on a brave face for them. It's the appearances that count.

"So, team," he begins, affecting a deeper voice for effect. "I've been made aware of something horrific that has been happening." He waits for people to guess, but no one does. 

"Something _awful_ ," he tries again. Still nothing. He shoots a glare at Zayn who lazily prompts, "What is it?" He could've done better, but at least he played along.

" _Someone_ on this team has been dating someone else from _Trier_." Louis waits for the scandalized gasps and hushed whispers. He gets none. His team is useless.

"I _said_ \--"

"So?" Louis whirls around to the origin of this insolence. It's Jesy, one half of a duo team.

" _So_?" Louis asks, his voice raising in shock. Did _no one_ understand the art of a rivalry these days? Was he truly alone?

"Yeah, so? What's it matter to you?" Jesy continues, as if she isn't stabbing Louis in the heart with every word she uses.

"It's -- it's --" Louis can't even continue. He's too aghast.

Zayn jumps in to save him. "Lou's like really big on the rivalry, remember?" Other members of the team look like a light bulb finally clicked. 

"You're the _only one_ who cares about that, Louis," Leigh Anne says. She has the nerve to defend herself. Unlike with Louis, his team actually make sounds of agreement. Louis can't believe this is happening. His team is a bunch of no-good traitors.

"That's not true at _all_ ," he attempts, but he's all flustered now. "Brian does!"

"He's from Trier."

"Zayn does! Gary does!" He looks over to Zayn to hear his agreement, but he only shrugs. That's it. Zayn's dead to him. He's finding a new duo partner before tomorrow. Gary only looks around in confusion. 

"See, you're alone on this," Leigh Anne says, with a slight smirk. "Anyways, how'd you finally find out?"

The lack of reaction to Leigh Anne's news means only one thing to Louis - that everyone knew and had been keeping it from him. He's disowning his entire team after this meeting. "Harry Styles," he answers reluctantly, as quickly as possible, trying to move onto other subjects, "But you're still wrong --"

" _He's_ from Trier, have _you_ been talking to a Trier boy?" Leigh Anne teases, her smirk even more apparent now.

"What? _No_ , _he_ approached _me_ ," Louis sputters. He is rapidly losing control of this. He needs to shut it down now.

There is a round of 'ooh's around the room and Louis is in despair. Fortunately, Zayn notices and starts clapping his hands to get everyone's attention on him. "Okay, clearly, this was a useless meeting. Let's meet back at 8 for Paul." It works because everyone starts moving off the beds and chairs and dispersing out. Leigh Anne punches Louis in the arm gently and smiles brightly before leaving. Louis wants to melt into the ground.

"Zayn," Louis says weakly. "Zayn. Zayn."

"Yes, Louis?"

"I have a team on the rocks. Everyone's a traitor. I lost my sunglasses. Harry Styles ruined everything. I'm shaken." Louis thinks there might be a cloud of misery hanging above him.

"Louis, you're being ridiculous. The team is fine. No one is a traitor. You can borrow mine --"

"My life has been a complete _lie_."

"Lou," Zayn says, his voice firm as he turns Louis' head towards him. "Trier's not gonna matter. Harry Styles doesn't matter. What matters is tomorrow and how we're going to sweep those rounds, right? You in?" He offers his fist out and waits for a response.

Louis snaps out of it instantly. Zayn's right. Nothing else matters but the two of them and the rounds between them and the finals. "All in," he answers, bumping Zayn's fist.

 

 **Sandra Silvers Memorial Duo Interpretation**  
ROUND  
1 - 8:00 AM  
2 - 10:00 AM  
3 - 2:00 PM  
4 - 4:00 PM

 **Dramatic Interpretation**  
ROUND  
1 - 10:00 AM  
2 - 12:00 PM  
3 - 4:00 PM  
4 - 6:00 PM

 

Louis wakes up to a surprisingly already awake Zayn at 6:04 AM. Their first round isn't until 8, but there's no way they're going back to sleep now. There's so much to do - wrangling everyone awake, getting and then not eating breakfast, pacing, last minute practicing in front of walls, finding rooms, and then waiting until it's 7:30 so they can walk to the room. He can guarantee everyone is awake or will be awake very shortly. He needs to take a shower. Brush his teeth. Look presentable. Louis squeezes Zayn's shoulder as he passes him and Zayn smiles shakily. They try to let their nerves out away from everyone's sight.

He limits himself to twenty minutes in the bathroom and is still jittery when he steps out. Zayn is now lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, while muttering something to himself. It's all very tense. "I'm going to get breakfast. Join me?" 

Zayn makes a noise, something that sounds like a 'no' and doesn't move. Louis finds that the best thing to do is to just leave him alone and then come back so they can talk their nerves out. Louis grabs his copy of the room key and his phone and shuts the door behind him. He plays with the key as he walks down the hall to the elevator just for something to do. He's trying not to think about 8:00 but it's still doing its best to fight back. It's somewhat helpful, actually. Keeps him on his toes.

"Hi!" comes a familiar voice behind him. It's very cheery for the morning. It's very cheery for 6 AM.

"Harry," Louis greets begrudgingly, turning slightly so he can see him. Harry is in a loose shirt and shorts, his hair is a mess, and he's grinning, dimples and all. Louis doesn't admit he looks good.

"Are you excited?" Harry asks. Louis quirks an eyebrow at Harry for that question. No one is 'excited' until after Round 3 and the exhaustion has taken over and even then, it's more of an excitement to be done.

"You could say that," Louis says warily. "Can I ask you something?" 

The elevator doors ding open and Harry steps inside first, pressing the button for the lobby after Louis is inside. "Yeah?"

"How new are you? I haven't seen you around and I know everyone from Trier."

"Clearly you don't," Harry singsongs. "I started this year."

"You qualified your first year." Maybe Louis is impressed. He and Zayn didn't qualify until their second year and it was the happiest day of his life. (Until they qualified the next year and again this year.)

"It was luck," Harry says immediately, modestly. Louis frowns. Of course he doesn't know if Harry is any good at whatever event he does, but he does know that Trier doesn't accept just anyone and he had to be good enough to make it onto the team.

"I'm sure," Louis says and Harry frowns a little. He feels bad suddenly, but shakes himself out of it. Was he supposed to disagree? Was Harry fishing for compliments? He had never even seen him in competition! Why did he even care about this?

"I know you and Zayn didn't get by on luck," Harry pipes in, the frown gone. "Everyone talks about how polished you are and I know you guys win all the tournaments and swept your district -"

"Yesterday you didn't even know what I looked like and now you have all this information on me?" They're on the fourth floor now.

"I said I hadn't seen you before but I had heard a lot about you, you know, lots of people talk and, you're kind of famous," Harry says, his cheeks a little red, but his gaze doesn't drop from Louis. 

It's Louis' turn to blush - it's one thing to joke about it by himself, but when other people bring up his name in the circuit, it's different. "Yeah, okay, I get it, my bad," he says in a rush, hoping the warmth in his cheeks will cool down.

There's a ' _ding_ ' as they stop at the lobby, and the doors open. He gestures for Harry to leave first, and he does. "It's just - I've really wanted to put a face to the name for a while now. So, I'm glad I did!" Harry's cheeks are a faded red, and he looks like he's teeming with an excited nervousness, but he doesn't even care.

Louis doesn't know what to say to that at all because on one hand, he's from Trier and this is already way past the allowed time he gives himself to talk to anyone from Trier (20 seconds) but on the other, he sounds really sincere and he inexplicably doesn't want to offend him? 

He settles for a stumbling, "Uh, thanks, I'm, uh, glad I know who you are now. Too. Yeah." He rubs the back of his neck and gives a hesitant smile. He has no idea what he's doing. He's supposed to be filled with rivalry rage. He's turning into a stranger before his own eyes.

Harry smiles wider at that and spots someone from his team waiting for him. Louis flushes like he's been caught but he hasn't _done_ anything _wrong_ to be worthy of being caught. He's just entertained a boy who may possibly hero worship him. No big deal. (He ignores his school affiliation.) With a hurried, "Good luck today! I'm rooting for you guys!" and a wave goodbye, he runs to catch up to his teammate and leaves Louis standing dumbstruck in the middle of the lobby. 

He definitely doesn't stare after him.

His phone vibrates in his pocket and Louis sees it's a message from Zayn. 

_hurry up I'm hungry now :(_ , it says.

Louis may or may not have forgotten that he was getting breakfast for them. He shakes his head, heads towards the direction of the free continental breakfast, and texts back: _on my way. also help_

 

A mantra of "Fuck Trier. Fuck Trier. Finals finals finals" gets him back on track.

 

Louis and Zayn perform second to last and every team before them is really good. In their district, the competition was strong, but it was the same every weekend - this is a change of pace and Louis knows why these teams have qualified. But it doesn't scare them - they have two years of past Nationals experience under their belt and know how they work together. They get through their piece without any stumbles, popping in and out of character easily, and fistbump each other when they sit back down. The smooth first round gives them the confidence they need for the second round and out of all the rounds they have competed in, these two are the best two they've ever had.

They barely see the rest of their team the rest of the day, only meet up with Paul as he runs past them to turn in a ballot, and take short naps in the lobby that's crowded with a shitload of competitors. It's pretty boring, since they're on as structured of a schedule as Nationals will get, but they're able to make new friends and find some of their old friends. 

The last two rounds of the day go just as smoothly and with a few wordless exchanges with Zayn, they feel almost certain that as long as they keep up their performances, they're a shoo-in for the break.

 

Zayn's meeting with Paul to sort out their copy of the script because it's easier to deal with it now in the hopes of breaking to quarterfinals than to scramble it up ten minutes before the deadline. Louis tells him he'll meet up with him back in the room because he has to help their policy team with their boxes. Once he's done that, he decides to explore the hotel more, just to kill time. It's a huge place and being in and out of rounds doesn't lend him actual time to walk around. Of course, with his fucking luck, he rounds the corner and runs right into Harry. Well, there's no actual collision, but he does turn the corner and Harry is three feet away.

With a smile (he's always smiling, isn't he), he asks, "Are you following me?"

Louis sputters a, "No!" and then adds, "I think _you_ are." As comebacks go, this is one of his worst ones.

"Maybe we both are. Maybe our schedules just line up. Maybe we're just drawn to each other," Harry says easily.

"It's just a _coincidence_ ," Louis insists, his face heating up. He doesn't even have his suit jacket on anymore and he feels like the hallway is too hot. Maybe he should roll his sleeves up.

Harry shrugs. Louis thinks his eyes maybe twinkle. "Are you done with your rounds?" When Louis nods, he continues as if Louis asked him the same question. "I'm not yet. They staggered drama weird. Do they always do that?"

"Hell if I know. I barely know duo. Zayn is the brains in the operation." So Harry is in drama. Louis makes a mental note to ask around about him. For competition's sake, of course.

"I can tell," Harry teases, bumping his shoulder against Louis' lightly. He's taller, Louis notices finally, and he has no idea when they started walking but it's happening. 

"You're supposed to respect me," Louis says, mock glaring at him. 

"Am I? But we're rivals, remember? I'm supposed to hate you actually." His voice is playful and mocking and Louis wants to smack him, but he _won't_ because he's a _good person_ but also he's kind of afraid of tournament officials swooping in and disqualifying him or something. He gets very paranoid during Nationals.

"Oh, ha ha ha, don't you think you're funny," he remarks, and Harry makes a smug face at him in answer. Louis hates him.

He's following Harry to god knows where, trying to think of a topic to fill the silence. He has nothing in mind and is seriously considering resorting to the weather (in fact, he has his mouth open and is about to say, "So, how,") when Harry stops and says happily, "Thanks for escorting me to my round!" Louis blinks once, twice, and oh, there's a door with a sign (PLEASE WAIT UNTIL JUDGES ARE INSIDE). Huh.

Harry must notice that Louis was floundering for something to say because he adds, "Oh, were you going to say something?"

"Oh, uh," Louis says, opening and shutting his mouth uselessly. "Nothing, it was - nothing, I forgot. Good luck!" He fucking scurries out of there and gets lost somewhere on the fourth floor when he realizes that that's the first time he's ever wished a Trier kid good luck.

 

He's sitting on his inner turmoil during team dinner at GATOR'S. He's able to forget about it as he enjoys his plate of ribs and then joins in on someone's birthday karaoke party, but when they start walking back to the hotel, he remembers that Harry Styles exists and he contemplates hiding away in the Mystery Machine van they just passed.

Zayn notices Louis' silence and tugs him close, wrapping his arm around his waist. "Wanna talk about it?"

Louis sighs and says, "Yes, but not now." Zayn nods and kisses his temple. They walk attached at the hip back to the hotel, take the elevator up the 12 flights, and Louis flops into bed and hides under the covers. A few seconds later, Zayn is tugging the covers up and sliding under them. Louis curls up against him and sighs.

"What's up?" Zayn is rubbing soothing circles against his back and Louis pouts.

Louis mumbles a non-answer.

"Rounds? You know we did great."

Louis mumbles, "Not rounds."

"Then what?"

"Harry Styles," he says forlornly.

"And?" Zayn presses, amusement evident in his voice.

"I see him _everywhere_."

"And that's a bad thing?"

" _Yes_ , because I don't want to see him everywhere!"

"You're sure about that?" Zayn still finds this funny. Well, nothing about this is very funny at all.

"Very sure. Completely sure, more sure than anything."

"Okay. Do you like him, Lou?"

"No! No! _No._ " Louis' emphasis is heightened with a matching scowl.

"Okay, then do you hate him?"

"No! I mean, out of rivalry's sake --"

"Not a thing, Lou."

"So a thing. And also, out of rivalry's sake, I have to hate him so I _do_ but I don't know much about him except that he constantly catches me off guard and keeps making me do things I've never done before like I actually wished him luck? Like, he's from Trier, and I don't do that, and I did and it was awful and my heart is all twisty and I also want to puke." Louis sounds miserable as he rushes through it.

"If you ask me --"

"I definitely didn't."

"You're being so difficult. I think it sounds like you like him, but if you're going to keep denying it, let's just go to sleep."

"I'm not denying anything because there's nothing to deny. I barely know him!"

"So it's a harmless crush. Have fun with it, as long as you know we have more important --"

" _Zayn_. I know. I can't believe you're accusing me of slacking off --"

"I'm not, Louis. You're the hardest worker I know. Just stop stressing about Harry Styles and think about that silver trophies we're going to get. Four more rounds tomorrow. Then Top 60. Ready?" Zayn smoothes down Louis' hair as a peace offering.

"Always," Louis says. He dreams of holding up the trophy with Zayn, the medals around their necks, and applause drowning them. When he looks out into the crowd, he sees Harry Styles standing front row, clapping like mad and smiling the widest he's ever seen him.

 

 **Sandra Silvers Memorial Duo Interpretation**  
ROUND  
5 - 8:00 AM  
6 - 10:00 AM  
7 - 2:00 PM  
8 - 4:00 PM

 **Dramatic Interpretation**  
ROUND  
5 - 8:00 AM  
6 - 10:00 AM  
7 - 2:00 PM  
8 - 4:00 PM

 

Harry looks more tired but possibly even better the next morning. Luck, coincidence, or possible stalking brings the two of them together again at the elevator and Louis actually greets him first. It's just a simple "Morning," but two days ago, he wouldn't have even said anything to him, just on the basis of his school.

"Morning," he repeats, his voice a little raspy. Louis doesn't react to that.

"Round go okay?" He feels compelled to ask about it since he did last see him going into his round.

Harry shrugs. "Dunno. Maybe. Stumbled a bit." He doesn't look too torn up about it, but Louis doesn't stress about small things when there are four more rounds to decide placement either.

"Probably did great," Louis offers, his mouth just running on its own. He sees out of the corner of his eye that Harry ducks his head. Maybe he's smiling too, but Louis doesn't see that at all because he definitely doesn't turn his head to face him. At all.

"I hope so. I mean, I don't really expect to break, you know? I'm just really lucky to qualify in the first place and it's just really fun to be here and you know," Harry says. Louis laughs a little because he does know and this is exactly what he said when it was his first year at Nationals. So glad to be considered, so glad to have the experience. Bullshit. That was all great but once he and Zayn broke into Top 60, he was fucking thrilled. The highest they've ever made it were quarters last year, though. Louis wants to change it this year.

"I understand the feeling," Louis says. They're by the breakfast tables now and it's a nice spread. Louis picks up a plate and Harry follows suit. He doesn't realize that he's having breakfast with Harry Styles until he's having breakfast with Harry Styles. They're the only ones at their table and have been having a conversation for twenty minutes and going. 

During the span of twenty minutes, Louis finds out this much: Harry's going to be a junior, his sister was a State champion in Original Oratory (Louis vaguely remembers a Gemma Styles, but she was a bit older), his worst habit is constantly being on the phone, he makes a mean Eggs Benedict, he almost failed AP Chem, and his first concert was Nickelback.

The last fact he only finds out because they were offering most embarrassing facts about themselves and Louis said that _his_ first concert was Nickelback, to which Harry piped in with his same first concert. They also both agree to never speak of it again.

Harry is actually fun to talk to. He also laughs really hard at Louis' jokes, which boosts his ego. He's always around for people who make him feel better about himself. He's not going to admit that he's not bad for a Trier kid, but he's not entirely bad.

He still talks a bit too slow and stares a bit too long at Louis sometimes, but strangely enough for Louis, he's not all that bothered by it. He likes the attention a bit. If he was forced to admit it, he would also say that he also likes catching Harry when he's staring and watching as Harry blushes, ducks his head, and bites his lip. Harry makes it something worth seeing. Jesus, Louis couldn't have possibly hated himself more than at that moment.

When they get up to leave, Harry scribbles something on a napkin and shoves it into Louis' hand before saying a quick "Bye!" and leaving. Louis looks down at the crumpled napkin, flattens it as best he can, and reads off a number.

Harry's given him his number and he's run off and he has twenty minutes before he has to meet up with Zayn and he has _Harry Styles_ ' number in his hand. 

He's not sure what's worse - immediately programming it into his phone or texting him five seconds later.

As soon as he sends, "It's Louis :)," he wants to turn back time and hit himself upside the head a couple hundred times.

"Hi :)" comes the response a second later.

Louis refuses to reply back.

 

They ride their smooth momentum from the previous day into Rounds 5 and 6, perfecting their performance, taking in the judges' impressed faces. Round 7 is tinged with a hint of the exhaustion that's prone to happen around that time, but they fight past it and it's still good, just not perfect. 

Round 8 is the one Louis will keep thinking about, have nightmares about, constantly berate himself about. Objectively, it's not even that bad and he's not even the sort of person who fixates on details, but this is Nationals and everything is up in the air. It also wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for Harry Styles. 

This is how it went down: while walking around before their round, Zayn spotted Harry, thought it was a good idea to call him over (probably to _embarrass_ Louis, because he's an asshole), and Harry walked over and joined the two of them. He fell into an easy pattern with them, didn't even mention how Louis had ignored his text, and struck up a conversation with Zayn all while ignoring Louis, basically. He remembers his greeting, but that's it. Almost like he had planned it as a thank you for escorting him to his round, Harry walked with them to their round. Before they walked in, Harry squeezed Louis' arm in reassurance, whispered, "Good luck," and winked at him. 

Louis stared at him briefly before remembering that he was in the doorway of his last preliminary round and walked in -- it hadn't been a problem until, and _of course_ this would happen, the middle of their performance, when he suddenly thought about the way Harry had squeezed his arm. Louis noticeably stumbled through a line and thankfully they didn't fall apart -- because they were much better than that and prepared for all sorts of mistakes -- but as soon as they sat back down, he laid his head in his arms and wished for the floor to open him up and swallow him whole. 

After the round, Louis slumps against the wall, draws his knees up, and buries his face against them. He hears Zayn sit down next to him and reacts accordingly when he pokes his side. Louis lifts his head and turns to him, expecting a disappointed face, but Zayn is smiling his normal smile. He feels relief flood over him. Zayn isn't mad at him. Zayn doesn't get mad at him about little flubs. They're a team and they know better than to expect everything to go right. It doesn't help him with his own frustration, but knowing that Zayn isn't upset helps a little.

"What happened?"

"Don't want to talk about it. You mad?" Louis says in a quiet voice.

"I would never be mad. Remember that time I actually forgot our blocking for a section and I thought you were going to kill me and you made some joke and kept on smiling? I mean, you could've been seething underneath, but I definitely am not. It was so insignificant to the rest of the piece! And we have seven other rounds to take into account! We're going to make Top 60," Zayn says, playing with Louis' fingers now.

"What if we don't? It'll be my fault," Louis says miserably.

"Hello, we're a team. If we don't, it's not all on you. I messed up yesterday, remember?"

"No."

"You may not, but I do, and when we make breaks, I'm going to say I told you so," Zayn grins at him, and Louis laughs, curling his fingers around Zayn's.

"I give you permission." Louis thinks he has the best best friend and duo partner in the world.

 

 **Student Posting Party at Gilley's**  
6:00-10:00 PM

 

The posting party is always really dumb, but it's an excuse for thousands of students to get together and live out their anxiety in places other than their own rooms. There's food and drink provided too, so it's not that bad. They've gone every year since qualifying so it seems like a waste to disregard it in their last year. Louis is sitting with Zayn in the corner of the room, his feet in Zayn's lap, and the two of them are attempting to play paper football with Leigh Anne and Perrie. Turns out, Perrie isn't that bad. She's really fun and loud, very no worries, and Leigh Anne keeps looking at Louis as if to proclaim how stupid she thinks the so called rivalry is. Louis will not respond to such childish antics. He is an Adult. (He does _accidentally_ flick the paper football at her, but he can't help it that his aim is bad, can he?)

Leigh Anne flicks one back at Louis but he catches it triumphantly. "Ha! No one gets past the Tommo!" he cheers, elbowing Zayn in the process. Oops. He's about to apologize when he spots the ever present and current bane of his existence, Harry Styles, walking in his direction and talking to a blond boy. Louis gets a flash of irritation that he pushes down. "Harry!" he yells, standing up on the bench they're on. Harry sees him instantly and walks over, with Blond Boy in tow.

"Louis, hi! And Zayn and Perrie and Leigh Anne," he says and they all say hello back in familiar tones. "This is Niall," he continues, gesturing to the blond. "I just met him! He's from California! Does Oratory!" Another round of greetings happen and Louis quickly cuts in.

"Nice to meet you, Niall." He's still standing on the bench. "How do you feel about paper football?"

"Uh, it's fine, I haven't played in a while," Niall answers.

Louis takes it. "Awesome, doesn't matter, Zayn can catch you up. Take my place while I go talk to Harry about important things." He scrambles down from the bench, pats Zayn on the back, and gives Niall a quick thumbs up before grabbing Harry's arm and dragging him outside.

"Wow, Lou, if you wanted to talk, you could've just asked," Harry says, but he doesn't stop Louis from pulling on him. Once they're outside, Louis whirls on him.

"Just so you know, if we don't break, it's all your fault," Louis says sternly, crossing his arms.

"What?" Harry asks, frowning. "What did I do?"

"What _didn't_ you do, is a better question." He's aware that he's being petulant.

"I really don't follow, sorry. I didn't mean to do whatever I did?" Louis lets out a frustrated sound and Harry looks alarmed.

"Stop being so nice! I'm trying to be mad at you!"

"It would help if I knew what was going on!" Harry says, warily.

"You! I messed up during a round because of you!" he says, waiting for a response.

"Had I done something? Was it bad?" Harry's automatically worried and Louis groans.

"I just keep _thinking about you_ ," Louis confesses without thought and curses as soon as he realizes. Harry's eyes widen and he reaches forward to touch Louis' arm, but Louis moves out of his reach. 

Harry drops his hand and he's so apologetic, which just makes Louis feel worse because he technically has nothing to really apologize for. It's not really his fault that Louis can't stop thinking about him (totally his fault, the irrational side of his brain yells) and the mistake in round was all on Louis but Harry's still here trying to apologize for shit he didn't do and Louis doesn't even pay attention.

"I didn't mean to do anything at all, I didn't know I was bothering you like if I had known, I would've stopped, are you even listening?" There's a flash of annoyance across Harry's face.

"No," Louis answers honestly. "Can I kiss you?"

He doesn't know where it came from either.

"What?" Harry asks. He looks frazzled. Louis doesn't blame him at all.

"Can I?"

"You want to kiss me?"

"Why else would I be _asking_?" Louis says, raising an eyebrow.

"I... don't know --"

"So?"

"Yeah," Harry says, blushing slightly. "You can."

 _Thank god_ , Louis thinks and steps closer so the top of his shoes are perched on Harry's, leans up as Harry leans down, and kisses him. Harry's hands move to Louis' waist, firm and secure, as he kisses back, and they're standing outside Gilley's, people are milling around them, and they're being enveloped by the Dallas heat, but none of that matters. Harry starts smiling against Louis' mouth and Louis wonders what's so funny, so he pulls back and makes a face at him.

"S'nothing," he answers, even though Louis didn't vocalize his question. His lips are red and Louis wants to kiss him again. "S'just nice, you know?" Louis rolls his eyes and steps back, eliciting a frown from Harry. He tries to grab him back towards him, but Louis is very elusive. 

"Almost posting time, I think," he says, checking his phone for the time. 

"Yeah, I'm sure," Harry says in mocking. "Is this one of those you'll kiss me once and never again kind of things?" Louis looks back at him and he wants to say that it is, but it's not and he only wants to kiss him again and again now that he's done it once. He possibly didn't think this through.

Begrudgingly, Louis answers, "No. Maybe I'll kiss you again." Harry smiles and pokes him in the side.

"Fair deal," he says easily, passing him to head back inside. Louis sighs and wonders what he just started.

They find Zayn, Niall, Leigh Anne, and Perrie standing in their original corner and although Zayn tries to ask what's up, Louis ignores him. "Almost time?" he asks, suddenly nervous. It's becoming all too real now. They're probably at the most ten minutes away from knowing if they made it past prelims. He wants to pace, but there are too many people. He wonders where Paul is. He tries to look at anything but the screens that are on the walls - the screens that will show the codes of the advancing competitors. Louis reaches for Zayn's hand and Zayn locks their fingers together. He can't tell if it's his or Zayn's grips that are tight, but it's calming in a way. He always has Zayn by his side.

Thirty seconds before the screens turn on, he locks eyes with Harry. He smiles at him and flashes him a thumbs up. Louis feels very light now, less nervous or more nervous maybe, and returns the thumbs up. 

"Congratulations to the Top 60 competitors for advancing this far!" booms a voice over the loudspeaker, and every head turns to the screens, where 60 codes are listed under each event. Right now, Louis only cares about one code - J170 - and scans it as quickly as possible. He sees a bold **J170** under **J164** and above **J172** , double checks it, triple checks it, and Zayn lifts him into a crushing hug, confirming what would've been his quadruple check.

"I told you so!" Zayn shouts into his ear and Louis is so deliriously happy, tucking his face against Zayn's neck, and hugs him tight.

He opens his eyes to the sight of Perrie and Leigh Anne hugging, Niall fistbumping someone, and Harry grinning widely. Louis mouths, "Did you?" Harry gives another thumbs up and Louis feels on top of the world.

 

His team makes it out with eight Top 60 contestants and they celebrate with pizza in Paul's room. Louis also takes the opportunity to run down the hallway a couple of times just for the hell of it and is giddy for much of the night. The Trier team comes back an hour after they do and Louis does his best at restraining himself from bragging about the eight Top 60 competitors compared to Trier's six. Inside, he is gloating, but he figures he shouldn't ruin anyone's night. He tries to look for Harry but he must have slipped by him because he doesn't see him.

Harry sneaks up on him a few minutes later, and Louis shrieks a little, his heart calming down once he realizes that it's only Harry.

"It's only me," he says and then giggles. Louis pinches his arm in retaliation. " _Ow_. That was mean. Kiss it better." He holds out his arm for Louis and Louis shakes his head first but then ducks down and smacks a loud kiss to his forearm.

"Happy?" Louis asks.

"It feels much better, thank you," Harry says seriously. He sits down against the wall and peers up at Louis, who is still standing. "Come down here." 

Louis obliges, sinking down to the floor. Their knees are touching. No one else is in the hallway, but he hears the music from Paul's room down at the end of the hallway. "So."

"So." Harry knocks his knee against Louis'.

"So. How's breaking your first year in feel?"

"Pretty fucking fantastic," Harry admits, laughing a little. "I never thought I would. Maybe I read my code wrong. Saw 6A instead of 16A or something."

Louis has no idea but it's probably a bad idea to suggest he did. "Nah, someone would've told you otherwise by now." 

"Reassuring, thanks." Harry is playing with his own fingers. Louis wants to reach out and tangle their fingers together.

"Sorry," Louis says bashfully. He does not tangle their fingers together.

"It's fine. I mean, this is my first year and I can't believe that I made it but I don't have my eyes set for finals. I wanted to do my supplemental event," Harry shrugs. Normally, Louis would have looked at him in horror for suggesting such low goals, but Harry has a point. Harry is also pretty, but that is decidedly a non-factor.

"That is?"

"Prose." They fall silent after that. Louis tries to summon up the courage to reach out for his hand. "Hey, Louis?"

"Hey, Harry?"

"I like you a lot." Louis freezes because he knows what he's trying to say and he has not thought about that all. He's known Harry for a total of approximately three days. Almost four.

"Yeah?" He tries to settle his heartbeat.

"Yep." Harry pops the 'p' obnoxiously. Louis feels a lot better for some reason.

"You're not bad." He stops Harry's protest by kissing him. They spend a lot of time in the hallway kissing.

 

 **Sandra Silvers Memorial Duo Interpretation**  
ROUND  
9 - 8:00 AM  
10 - ~~10:00 AM~~ 12:00 PM  
11 - 2:00 PM  
12 - 4:00 PM

 **Dramatic Interpretation**  
ROUND  
9 - 8:00 AM  
10 - 10:00 AM  
11 - 2:00 PM  
12 - 4:00 PM

 

The next day is a shitstorm. Louis supposes it's only fair that at some point, the smooth machine of the Committee has to falter. It would've been a lot better if it had started sputtering with any other event but Duo. He has no idea how a group that tightly organized can just up and lose the ballots from one of the rounds, but apparently it's fucking possible. The pairs in that round have to redo it, which puts Round 10 two hours behind schedule. Louis now has two extra hours of _nothing_ to do. He's complaining about this to Harry in as dramatic a fashion as possible. Zayn is sitting next to him shaking his head to let him know it's not as bad as it sounds.  
"Basically, we're fucked," Louis finishes with a loud sigh. The audience that he has captured during his storytelling starts to disperse, which is _quite_ rude of them, since they didn't even applaud. It was the least they could do to show their gratitude for a well told story. He does get two half hearted rounds of applause from Harry and Zayn at least. After taking a short bow, at which only Harry giggles about, he flops back onto the seat. "I'm bored."

"It's only a few more hours, Louis," Zayn says, patting him on the back. Louis shuffles closer to him on instinct. Harry frowns.

"A few more _boring_ hours," he shoots back. He looks to Harry to back him up, but he's standing up.

"Well, unlike you guys, tab hasn't messed up drama so I gotta go to my round right now," Harry says. Louis is not happy with this news. He wants Harry to stay and entertain him and if he leaves, how he can be entertained? 

"Wait, can we go to your round too?" Zayn asks. Louis turns and looks at him, surprise evident on his face. He never thought about it, but he has been wondering how Harry is as a performer. He'd never think of him in DI, but maybe he's different with his piece. He's also wanted to assess his talent for himself.

It's suddenly a really good idea. "Oh, can we?" Louis says, pouting at Harry. "We'll sit in the back and be really good spectators. 

Harry sighs. "Do I have a choice?"

"You do --"

"Zayn means _technically_ yes, but you know I'll just follow you to the room." He tries on an innocent face. Harry nods in resignation and Louis jumps in glee and presses a sloppy kiss to his forehead.

 

Harry is the fourth performer in the round. When he's just waiting for his turn, he's very chill, his hands clasped together on the desk and his attention focused on each previous contestant. He reminds Louis a lot of himself when he started - same polite interest (although Harry's might be actual interest, he's not sure), same enthusiasm. 

When 16A is called, he smiles bashfully at the judges, announces the title of his selection in his slow voice, and waits for the judges to tell him they're ready. Louis catches his eye and gives him a quick thumbs up; he swears Harry brightens.

Harry's good. Harry's really good. He watches his quick movements and his smooth pops, listens to his character voices, and pays attention to how involved he is with his piece. He has a few problems with the overall polish, but he can see how Harry qualified and made Top 60. He's honestly very impressed by him and tells him that when the round is over, dropping back in step to walk next to Harry.

"You were, uh, great," Louis says, nodding to emphasize his point. "I really liked it."

Harry ducks his head and Louis screams internally. "You have no idea how much that means to me."

Louis doesn't know what to say to that, so he resorts to laughing a bit nervously. "Just telling you my thoughts, you know."

"It means a lot. Thank you," Harry says earnestly. Everything about Harry is earnest. His eyes are earnest. His smile is earnest. His face is earnest. Harry is earnest. Louis wants to kiss the earnest look off his face.

He settles for intertwining their fingers and squeezing slightly before he lets go and jogs to catch up with Zayn.

 

They make it to quarterfinals. Top 15 in the nation. Louis kisses Zayn on his face and then kisses Harry on his lips and again as consolation when he finds out Harry didn't make it. Harry doesn't take it bad at all. Turns out it wasn't all talk. He is actually one of those "I'm just really glad to have been here" kinds of people. After that, he unofficially becomes Zayn and Louis' personal cheerleader.

His smile is the brightest in the audience of the quarterfinals round and Louis feeds off that energy. Their performance is spectacular.

 

Louis almost falls to his knees in happiness when he sees **J170** as one of the twelve teams that have made it into Duo semifinals. This is the farthest he and Zayn have ever advanced and he's shaking. He simultaneously wants to bounce off the walls and crawl under his blankets and sleep. It's some time past 7 PM, he hasn't eaten in three hours, and he's running on a few hours of sleep. Zayn has to be feeling the same way. 

"We're so fucking close," Louis says to Zayn, as everyone starts leaving to go to rounds. Zayn nods, the exhaustion apparent in his face. Harry's waiting a few feet away. Harry's a good person.

"We're gonna make finals," Zayn says eventually. "We're going to go to finals."

Louis gives him a tired, lopsided grin. "Finals, huh?"

"If you're up for it."

"We're partners, remember? Couldn't possibly leave you behind." Zayn grins and bumps his fist in response.

"Where's your boy Harry fit in?" he teases, and Harry maybe has super hearing abilities because he jerks his head up and looks in their direction.

Louis hasn't gotten over the habit of blushing when it comes to the subject of Harry yet. He's working on it, but he's had a bit more pressing matters to attend to recently. "Shut up," he grumbles. "Can we go now?"

Zayn keeps laughing even as they meet up with Harry.

 

"I can't do this, I can't take this waiting anymore." Louis is laying on his back in the posting area, staring at the ceiling. Semifinals went fine. He doesn't have any strong feelings this or that way, mostly because he's so fucking exhausted. He's been up since 6 AM and it's already 9 PM. He hasn't eaten in hours. He needs to call his mom, but he doesn't want to talk to her until he knows if they've advanced. He _really_ needs something to eat.

"They should be out any minute now," Harry offers. His head is resting on Louis' chest, his own body laying in a ninety degree angle to Louis. "Patience, patience."

"Fuck off," Louis says weakly. Harry grins and blows a raspberry against his shirt. Gross. Gross and not cute.

Zayn comes back with three sandwiches and three Cokes and tosses two of them to Harry, who catches them easily. He offers one of the sandwiches to Louis, but Louis declines. He thought he was really hungry but his stomach is too bundled up with nerves. He'd probably throw up all over.

"Zayn?" Zayn looks up from his phone at Louis' voice. "No matter what, we've had an amazing run --"

"Shut up, Lou. Don't count us out before we're out."

"I'm not! I'm trying to be heartfelt!"

"You're doing a poor job at it. I love you and I love what we've done and I just want to eat this sandwich in peace --" Zayn trails off when one of the tournament administrators walks into the room and they all fall quiet. The atmosphere is tense and suffocating. Louis sits up, bringing Harry along with him.

"Congratulations to the National finalists," the administrator says simply, and 10 vertical banners unfold from the ceiling. Louis only cares about one banner, his eyes darting to the one that holds the 6 codes of the Duo Interpretation finalists.

J134  
J156  
J164  
J170  
J181  
J185

"Zayn," he says weakly, after what seem like minutes, after what seems like a battle to find his voice again. "Zayn."

"I know, Lou. I know." With that affirmation from Zayn, Louis tackles him to the ground in an ecstatic hug and there's incoherent yelling and crying, Paul's trying to pull the two apart to congratulate them, and the rest of the team is piling on top of each other in celebration. Louis feels like this is all a dream, a perfect fantasy where he and Zayn have just made finals and he has his team around him and a Harry looking fondly on. Zayn tackles him again and Louis laughs as the air is knocked out of him and thinks, _Yeah, so much better than a dream_.

 

They don't have to be anywhere until 11 AM the next morning so what does it matter if Louis is spending his time ordering room service and watching movies in Harry's room? He's technically not supposed to order anything because the school is paying for it, but hello, he's a National Finalist, they can cut him some slack there.

"You know," Harry starts, reaching over to snatch some chips from Louis. Louis hisses at him. "People could consider this a date. We've got food and a movie and we're in a hotel room alone..."

"No funny business, Styles," Louis admonishes, guarding the bag of chips from Harry's reach. "And it's not a _date_. It's a celebration of mine and Zayn's fantastic success."

"Zayn's not even here."

"Only because he's sick of me and wants to soak in the hot tub." Louis sniffs sadly to add dramatic effect. Harry just pats his shoulder.

"So really, it's not exactly a celebration --"

"Harry." Louis feels a prickling in the back of his neck. "Just drop --"

"Yeah, yeah. Can we watch a different movie?" Harry asks, gesturing to the tv screen. They're watching _Rudy_ , last they checked, and not only does Louis love this movie, there also isn't much else on. He takes a look at Harry, who looks sleepily content next to him, head on his shoulder and arm looped through Louis'. 

"Have at it," Louis concedes, tossing him the remote. Harry smiles lazily and flips through the channels before settling on some other film. Louis isn't sure what it is and doesn't make any effort to find out what it is. Harry doesn't either, especially when he falls asleep halfway through it, curling up close to Louis. He smooths down Harry's flyaway curls and drags the sheets over the two of them before falling asleep next to him.

 

Louis has a crick in his neck when he wakes up. A quick scramble for his phone tells him it's 9:38 AM and before he calls for Zayn, he remembers he fell asleep with Harry last night. Shit. He tears the sheets off him, which jostles Harry awake with a mumbled "What?" and Louis apologizes.

"Sorry, sorry, didn't mean to sleep here last night, should've gone back --" Louis is rambling now, as he pockets his phone and runs a hand through his hair. He needs a shower and he needs to go back to his room.

"S'fine," Harry mumbles against the pillow. "Not late or anything, right?"

"Not late, no, just --"

"Yeah, go on, just..." Harry pops his head up, blinking away the sleep from his eyes. "See you later?"

Louis can't help but grin. "You better be in that audience where I can see you."

"As if you guys can go without your good luck charm," Harry says with a sleepy smile. Louis kisses him quickly before walking out, Harry's loud "You're such a heartbreaker, Tomlinson!" following him. Brian totally sees him exiting from Harry's room, but Louis just flips him off.

 

Standing on that stage, even just for sound and light check, sends a chill down Louis' spine. He feels the goosebumps rise as he looks out into the ballroom. The seats are empty but he imagines them filled, as they will be later on, his team sitting a few rows behind the judges, Paul looking proudly at them. He lifts his head up so Lissa, the tech girl, can adjust the mic positioning and he thinks, _Jesus Christ_ , because six hours from now, he'll be back on the stage, actually being filmed and observed and judged because he's actually a Nationals finalist. There is a possibility he might pee his pants (right now, of course, not when it actually matters, but Lissa might object to that point).

Once they're done, they're ushered backstage, where they have an hour lecture about where they're supposed to stay before their event, where they can and can't go, and what time to report to the ballroom. Louis sends nonsensical texts to Harry instead.

_Bored save me_

_This guy's beard is out of control_

_Trying to take a sneaky pic . not working_

_did you get it_

_Text me back I'm bored_

He gets one response from Harry ( _Hahahahahahahahahaha sucks to be you, National Finalist._ ). What a little shit.

Zayn and Louis run through their piece one more time in front of Paul and the team but that's the last they touch of it before 7 PM. His stomach has been fostering some low-grade nerves the entire day, but they've manifested themselves in an excited energy. Thirty minutes before their event finals, they get called to the backstage area and are fitted with their mics and National finalist ribbons. 

The minutes tick by quickly. He hears the audience in a collective whisper and wonders where Harry is sitting. He wishes he could go check his phone, see if there's a message from him, but Paul's taken it already. Their performance is slated to go fourth, and as soon as the third duo team goes on, Louis lets out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding.

He turns to Zayn, reaches out to adjust his tie, makes sure to avoid messing up the mic. He asks, "Ready?"

"You and me, Lou. Always," Zayn says back, his voice certain. He grabs for Louis' hand and kisses his knuckles and Louis breathes out again. Two minutes until showtime.

When the announcer calls out their code and title, Louis kisses Zayn's knuckles quickly and they walk out onto the stage. The lights are blinding, the crowd is full, their team flashes them double thumbs up, and Harry is sitting a few rows back, with Trier, smiling like always. There are no scowls on Trier's faces, not even Brian's. Louis has only a few seconds to take it all in before they begin.

 

He's knocking on Harry's door later that night, loud, quick raps against the door. 

_Where are you !!_ , he texts to Harry before flipping his phone in his hand. There's too much going on for him to stop moving about, and he wanted to find Harry to help him relax, but that plan doesn't work without a Harry in question. 

The worst part about about speech finals being Friday is that he still has too many hours to suffer through before the awards the next day. This means he has plenty of time to stew in every little mistake he thinks he made, which makes him incredibly grumpy. It makes him hard to be around actual people. Every word out of his mouth is a variation of "What did you think of [insert scene here]?" He tries to sleep until it's 5 PM the next day, but his mind won't let him. Being around Zayn doesn't help either because they just make each other's thoughts worse and for the time being, Paul has banned them from hanging out, just so they can (try to) relax. Louis hates Paul for trying to be helpful. 

"Stop trying to break down my door," Harry says, a few feet away and looking bemused.

"Harry! There you are! Been looking everywhere for you!" He moves aside to make room for Harry to slide his room key in to open the door. Once he does, he bounds inside and jumps on the bed a couple of times. He stops at the edge to pull Harry up with him and he follows without complaint, laughing while Louis leads him into an impromptu dance. Even without music to guide them, it's more fast paced than a regular slow dance, with absolutely no pattern to it. One second he's swaying with Harry, another second he's waving Harry's arms from side to side. 

Their laughter blends together, loud and boisterous, and Louis keeps going on his tiptoes to press kisses against Harry's jaw. Harry's ticklish, he finds out, and he loves it. Harry retaliates by running his fingers up and down his sides and Louis tries to squirm away from the vicious attack but only ends up toppling them both over on the bed with muffled _oof_ s.

"Way to go, Styles," Louis says to the ceiling.

Harry gasps. " _Hey_ , you made us fall." 

"Uh, _no_ ," Louis disagrees. "You didn't need to retaliate, okay?"

"I'm not gonna win this battle, am I?" Harry turns so he's facing him and Louis mirrors the action. He has lighter flecks of color in his eyes and a faint smattering of freckles across his nose. Harry's fringe falls into his eyes as he shifts on the bed and he has a bad habit of pushing it back so it's out of his way.

Louis taps him on the nose twice and replies, "Right you are!"

There's a soft _hmph_ of mixed indignation and resignation from Harry. Just how Louis likes it. He nudges at Harry's ankle with his own and Harry elbows him playfully. A punch here, a flick there. Soon enough, they're a tangle of limbs, of mouths hovering over mouths, fingers tangled together. Louis strokes Harry's thumb and enjoys the silence of the room.

Harry breaks the silence. "Hey Louis?"

"Hey Harry?"

"Are we like doing something here?" 

Louis feels dread coil down his spine. This wasn't a conversation he wanted to have.

"What do you mean?" He tries to roll over onto his back so he can escape Harry's strong gaze but every time he tries, he just can't. 

"Like, is this just for fun or are we going to keep seeing each other when this is over?" He has a neutral expression on and his fingers are tight around Louis'. 

Louis is quiet for a while, possibly too much of a while, because Harry starts backtracking. "Sorry, sorry, that was probably too much, I know we only --"

"No, sorry," Louis cuts in. He pulls his hand away apologetically. His palms are sweaty. How long have they been sweaty? "I just. Don't really know. Sorry. Just, there's a lot happening and I haven't really..." His attempt at a smile falls short.

"Thought about it," Harry finishes. Louis can't read his expression - it's skillfully absent of anything telling.

"It's been a hell of a week, Harry," he says. He's finally pushed himself into an upright position. It doesn't wash away the guilt.

"I know, I went through it with you, remember?" It's entirely teasing in its intention and execution, but Louis still feels like he's in the wrong. He _isn't_ in the wrong. He had never promised Harry anything and they barely knew each other and he had had finals in his head all week. He needed room to breathe.

Louis doesn't answer and he must have a look on his face that invites comment because Harry quickly says, "Honestly, I didn't mean to bring it up at all, it just happened and I know there are so many more important things to be thinking about." He reaches for Louis' hand again and he lets him lace their fingers together.

He looks down at their fingers and thinks that they look good together. "Give me time to think?" Louis finally says. He feels Harry squeeze his hand.

"You don't have to think too much about it. Someone's got awards tomorrow." Louis groans at how nice he's being.

"Stop being so fucking _understanding_ , you idiot," he complains. "You suck." Harry seems very satisfied with that because he's a cheerful loser who would be happy with that.

"I'll take that as a compliment and also can we go bother Zayn?" It's like he already knows the way to Louis' heart. 

" _Yes_ ," Louis approves. "But first!" Without further notice, he pushes Harry onto his back, falling into the set of pillows, and kisses him hard, licking his way into his mouth. Harry kisses back with enthusiasm, taken back at first due to the surprise, but quickly adjusts, drawing him closer. Louis actually struggles to pull back due to Harry's grip, but he's successful. Harry makes a whining sound, to which Louis acknowledges only with a small kiss on the tip of Harry's nose.

"Up and at 'em, Styles, let's go!" 

"I don't like you anymore."

 

They stay in their respective rooms that night but Louis does not sleep. Instead, he spends the night tossing and turning because he feels the weight of figuring out what he wants with Harry pressing against him. It's funny that he will be finding out if they've won the championship in a few hours, but all he can focus on is Harry's stupid understanding words and his stupid eyes and hair and supportive cheerleading and lips. He's known Harry for not even a full week and spent the first day convinced he was a Trier spy. He doesn't know all that much about him apart from the facts he's tucked away inside his brain. He doesn't know what Harry wants from him and he doesn't know how they'd even manage outside of these circumstances.

But.

It's not an unappealing thought, wanting this to be more. It's not as if Harry's asking for the world. It's not a life commitment. It's just an offer for more. Harry is friendly and polite and encouraging and also bright and ambitious and impressive and he wants to know more about him, wants to see more of him, wants more of him. It's an easy conclusion from a long internal fight. He supposes that it's always been an easy conclusion, something he would've known before if he had let himself actually think about it.

By the time he finally falls asleep, it's 5 AM and he's gone through almost ten different scenarios of how to tell Harry his conclusion. He sleeps with a smile lost in the sheets and wakes up at noon. Looking over at the other bed, he spots Zayn on his laptop. 

"Judgment Day," Zayn says, without looking away from the screen.

Shit. Awards tonight. "In it to win it," Louis says. Zayn shoots him a crooked grin.

"Let's get lunch after you get up. I'm starving."

"'Kay," Louis says. He's vaguely aware of his own hunger. "Guess what?"

"Yeah, what?"

"Think I'm gonna ask Harry out on a date." He waits for Zayn's reaction. 

"What do you call all the times you've hung out with him in his single hotel room?" Zayn asks, accompanying his question with a wag of his eyebrows.

"Celebration of our Nationals success," Louis answers defiantly. Zayn laughs for a few minutes but he stops long enough to tell him it's a good idea.

 

Turns out the universe is conspiring against his attempts to ask Harry out properly. By the time Zayn and Louis leave for lunch, it's 1:30 and they stay at the restaurant until 3:30. They have to hurry back to the hotel before 4, when the finalists are supposed to be all dressed and ready to report to the ballroom in advance for the awards. Louis manages to send a text (' _make some time for me ??_ ') to Harry before he has to pocket it. 

From backstage, they can hear the buzz of the audience filing into the ballroom, getting louder as the awards ceremony gets closer to starting. Louis is going entirely by the cues from the assistants who will tell them when to walk on stage. He's very grateful because he can't even think straight with how hard his heart is pounding. The other duo finalists keep trying to make small talk with each other and failing, preferring to pace around instead. Louis keeps readjusting his tie. Zayn looks like he's going to be sick. Sometime later, he gets pushed into a single file line behind Zayn, half listening to the woman in charge tell them they're about to go on. 

He grabs for Zayn's hand as the head of the National Forensic League booms out, "Please welcome the finalists in Duo Interpretation to the stage!" The line starts moving until they're at the center and Louis is greeted with the familiar brightness of the lights in his face. He doesn't know where their team is or where Harry is. He's thinking about closing his eyes until this is all over; Zayn is crushing his hand.

"It is with great pride that the National Forensic League announces your finalists in Duo Interpretation. In sixth place are Ann Griswold and Ellie Banks from Colorado Springs High school, coached by Hilary Peterson!" Louis feels himself let go of Zayn's hand to clap for Ann and Ellie, who walk by them to collect their trophies. He hopes he's smiling pleasantly; all he can feel is the startling relief that the names called out weren't theirs.

He repeats the process for fifth and fourth place and doesn't dare let himself hope. His heart is pounding and he's sure everyone can hear it. He can't see a fucking thing in the audience.

Third place goes to Ryan Larson and Cory Grant, Bellvue High School, coach Karen Alexander.

Time stands still. Louis still can't breathe.

"The National Runners up in Duo Interpretation are..."

Louis doesn't think holding his breath will actually help him breathe but he tries it anyways. "Elizabeth Emerson and Benjamin Hill, from Lakeside Prep, coached by Sam Hill and Felicity Arthur!"

In that second after Elizabeth and Ben's names are announced, Louis and Zayn accept the hugs they offer in congratulations. After that, as Elizabeth and Ben pass them, he hears the loud applause that often comes within the gap between the runners up and the champions. There's a long pause before their names are officially announced in which their arms go around each other, Zayn lifting Louis up and he wonders if he's crying. He's honestly so numb with happiness he can't tell at all.

"And your National Champions in Duo Interpretation are Zayn Malik and Louis Tomlinson, from Lincoln High School, coached by Paul Higgins!"

 

They have to take official pictures in their leis and cowboy hats (the latter sticking with the Dallas theme) which makes them look ridiculous but what's a little embarrassment when they've just won the National Championship? The ceremony is long over by the time they're finally released back into the wild and their team is waiting for them, all of them with ecstatic looks on their faces. Gary looks like he's been crying and Louis feels a wave of affection for him. There's still a pretty sizable crowd of people left from the ceremony, catching up with their own champions and trying to organize last minute things.

"All hail the conquering heroes!" someone shouts and the team bursts into applause. Louis takes a wide bow and grins.

"Let us see the hardware!" Leigh Anne pipes in, poking her head out from behind Danny's shoulder. She makes grabby hands for the trophies and Louis is feeling very generous (and happy, very very happy) so he hands it over delicately, with the strongest possible warnings that should any scratch appear anywhere on the trophy, he will seek revenge. 

Needless to say, it starts making its way to every team member's hands, making Louis wince every single time anyone (and he sees everyone) touches it with anything but the most delicate touch. " _Gary_ , be _careful_ with that, don't just _tug_ \--" He's interrupted by a tap on his shoulder and when he whirls around, he sees Harry, his hands clasped together behind his back and a small smile on his face.

"Hi," Harry says.

"Hi," Louis says, a bit breathlessly. He tugs at his lei, feeling more than a bit silly with it on, along with the hat. 

"So, can I tell everyone I know a National Champion?" he asks, reaching out to tug at the lei as well. Louis laughs, feeling the nervous excitement wash away into a content assurance.

"Yeah, go brag away," he answers. "So..."

Harry's smiling like he knows what he's going to say. "So."

"I was thinking and... if you were free sometime, I thought we could go see a movie. Or I'd take you somewhere to eat. Or you know, anything," Louis says slowly, faltering a little. He's running the flowers of the lei between his fingers and he shouldn't feel more nervous about this than for a round, but at the moment, he is. 

Harry bites back a smile and tries to school his face into a neutral expression. "As a celebration of your success?"

Louis blushes - it does sound ridiculous now that someone else has said it. "Nope. As a date."

"Then you're on," Harry finally answers. He plucks the cowboy hat off Louis' head and places it onto his own. "I'll be taking this too." 

Louis would protest but he really doesn't like the hat so Harry can have it. 

His trophy enters his line of sight at that moment as Leigh Anne sidles up next to him and waves it in front of his face. 

"Just returning this to Your Majesty," she says as if she hadn't just given Louis a heart attack of the highest caliber. He takes it out of her hands and holds it close, glaring at her once he has it safe and secure in his arms.

"You're never touching this ever again," he warns, but she's already moved onto a new subject as soon as she sees Harry.

"Why, hello, Harry! Nice to see you! You've been hanging around a lot. I would think there's love in the air, except Captain here is really into the rivalry," she says, very matter-of-factly, a smug look on her face pointed at Louis. He wonders if he could get rid of her without anyone wondering what happened and pinpointing it on him.

"I think the rivalry ship has sailed," is all Harry says, which launches Leigh Anne into another round of teasing aimed at Louis. 

"Can't you go bother someone else --"

"Tomlinson," a voice interrupts. Louis turns around to see Brian looking very uncomfortable.

"Brian," Louis returns, a little confused.

"Er, congratulations to you and Malik on winning. It's good to see someone from the state win," Brian says. He offers a hand to Louis, looking even more uncomfortable while doing so, and Louis shakes it with the hand that's not clutching onto the trophy.

"Thanks a lot, Brian. Good job this week," he says, because Brian had made it to semifinals. "S'been a good four years. You were a good rival."

"Not a thing," Zayn says, shaking his head as he walks up next to them. Brian extends the same hand to Zayn and he shakes it as well. 

"Definitely a thing," Louis argues, but it's mostly for appearance's sake now. Brian nods in agreement. Zayn just rolls his eyes, so does everyone else in earshot.

"We're going to get something to eat now. Harry, wanna join us?" Zayn asks, looking back at Harry, who's engaged in a conversation with Leigh Anne. She's probably just making fun of Louis. Harry nods. Once he gets his affirmation, Zayn turns back to Brian. "How about it, Brian? Put the rivalry away?"

Brian looks at Zayn in plain discomfort and then at Louis, who shares the same look. "Uh, I'm good. Have fun!" After he hurries off, Louis slaps Zayn's arm for the gall to invite his Worst Enemy to dinner with the team.

"Sorry, babe, wanted to see your reaction," he says. Louis is not very amused.

"I'm not very amused."

"I'll buy you ice cream, okay? A little thanks for being a great partner gift," he suggests, throwing an arm around Louis' shoulders.

"You're so sentimental," Louis whines, pretending to shrug out of Zayn's grasp, but actually gives him a quick side hug to show him he's joking, but Zayn already knew that.

"Hey, I'm getting jealous over here," Harry pipes in, poking Louis in the stomach. Louis moves the trophy to his front to ward off any other attacks.

"I can't help it if everyone wants a piece of me," he says, his nose upturned. "I _am_ a National Champion after all." There's a collective groan behind him. Rude. He contributes so much and asks for so little and his team can't even offer him a little support. 

"Can someone take his trophy away before he starts using it as an excuse for everything he does?" Jesy asks. 

"Too late," Louis replies, keeping the trophy close to his body. They can pry it from his cold, dead hands as far as he's concerned.

**Author's Note:**

> For reference, the boys' events:  
> \- Zayn/Louis - Duo Interpretation, Public Forum debate -- they would always be together. Partners in crime, you know.  
> \- Harry - Dramatic Interpretation (in this), Prose  
> \- Niall - Radio Broadcasting (not a Nationals event), Oratorical Interpretation  
> \- Liam - Lincoln Douglas debate


End file.
